


the makings of you

by city_bright



Series: the makings of you [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, IVF Arc (X-Files), Pregnancy, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/city_bright/pseuds/city_bright
Summary: A continuation of my "so darkness i became" story, but this can be a standalone fic. Season 7/Season 8 AU in which Mulder is never abducted, alien colonization isn't a thing, and Mulder and Scully are happy and expecting baby William.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: the makings of you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960927
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	the makings of you

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't quite ready to leave the world of my previous fic "so darkness i became" behind, so I decided to follow it up with this major fluff piece because Mulder and Scully deserve to be happy.

Scully desperately plays with her hands as she sits on the examination table, the paper crinkling loudly beneath her. She’s been in and out of waiting rooms, doctor’s offices, and exam rooms for the better part of the last two years, and each visit still brings a fresh wave of nervousness and anxiety. It’s unrelenting.

Most visits are more of the same - yes, your ova are still not viable; no, the chances of another round of IVF aren’t any much better than they were the last time we checked; no, the chances of you conceiving naturally are just as slim; yes, we can try other forms of medication, but it may be a losing battle; no, there are no signs indicating that if you do get pregnant, you won’t be able to carry it to full-term. If. She hates that word.

Her doctors have all but said what it is, what she is - barren. A place where nothing grows, a house with no foundation, no infrastructure, and zero tools. She thinks she’s being generous with that analogy. It’s probably just a pile of wood if she’s honest.

But she hopes all the same.

She’s been feeling lethargic these days, off, different, unsure. Maybe it’s the stress of carrying this burden on her shoulders, maybe work has finally run her ragged, and more than likely, it’s her new medication, but she’s here to be sure and see what adjustments can be made.

Her doctor enters the room, glasses down to the bridge of her nose, with a clipboard tucked in the crook of her arm. Scully looks up expectedly, ready to talk dosage adjustments and alternative options. She checks her mental list of two other medications she’s heard of that she wants to ask about, the names and questions ready at the tip of her tongue.

“Well, Dana,” her doctor begins, taking her glasses off, folding them, and placing them in her white coat pocket with a shake of her head. The movement and the tone her doctor’s voice has taken on make Scully straighten her posture. Something unexpected happened. “I don’t know how to explain this, but uh- you are pregnant.”

She’s stunned into silence and a plethora of emotions overwhelm her, she doesn’t know where to start. “How- I-,” her mouth opens and closes like a fish. She wants to laugh out loud, convinced this is a joke, but also cry at the idea she managed to create life, create something out of nothing. She feels powerful. And vulnerable. Very vulnerable. Despite the assurances that she could theoretically carry a full-term baby, theory and practice and reality are all very different things.

She wants to ask so many questions, but “how long?” is the one that spills out.

“9 weeks,” the doctor confirms.

“9 weeks,” she repeats in a whisper. She counts backward and recaps every single little thing she has done in the past two months - kicking down doors, gun searching for the threat, firing one, two, three rounds to be sure the threat was neutralized; fighting off a suspect with an elbow to his stomach and a hit to his nose; that questionable wine from the motel mini-fridge; sex with Mulder and lots of it, a result of pregnancy hormones, she thinks. She chuckles to herself at that. 

“Is the baby healthy? Safe?”

“It’s too early to tell, but we’ll get you set up for another appointment next week for a full check-up. Irene at the receptionist's desk will help with penciling that in. Please don’t hesitate to call me if something comes up between now and the next appointment, okay? I’d like to keep a close eye on you, given your history and line of work, for the time being.”

Scully nods, unable to say or do anything else.

“And congratulations,” she warmly smiles as she turns to leave.

“Thank you.”

When the doctor leaves the room and she’s alone within these four beige, antiseptic walls, she lets out that bout of laughter. She buries her face in her hands in an attempt to gather herself. She takes a deep breath, laughter finally abating, but the smile doesn’t fade. She lifts her head and finds the happy pregnancy posters she has cursed at many times before, but instead of a curse, she finds herself in the middle of what she would classify as a medical marvel.

She has no idea how she’s going to tell Mulder, but it’s a problem she doesn’t mind having. She can’t wait to tell him.

* * *

Mulder’s mouth is immediately on hers as soon as her apartment door clicks shut. It’s not frantic or urgent, but just insistent enough to let her know what’s on his mind tonight, a tease of what’s hopefully more to come. She smiles against his lips and gently pushes him away at his shoulders.

“Not yet. I have a surprise for you first.” And what a surprise it is.

His eyebrows go up with intrigue. “Really? Like what? Ooh, can I guess?” he asks excitedly.

“You’ll never guess what it is, so I’m just going to tell you.” She leads them to her couch and they each take a seat facing each other.

“Come on, Scully,” he nearly whines. “At least give me a shot.”

She tucks her legs under her and gets comfortable. “Fine. Just one.”

Mulder nods once and furrows his brows in concentration, undoubtedly weighing all realms of possibilities. He sends her a couple of looks to see if her facial expressions will offer any sort of hint, but she just grins, allowing herself a moment to relish in this little secret. After a few moments, his head pops up. “Did you get us tickets to go to the World Series?”

She laughs and shakes her head. She wasn’t expecting any particular guess out of him, but she thought he would go in a wildly different direction now that he’s said his guess aloud. “Not even close.”

“Okay," conceding defeat, "what is it?”

She plays with her nails, suddenly nervous. She was so excited to tell him, but it’s real now. She can’t take it back once it’s out there, and their lives, their relationship will never be the same. But he looks at her with such a sweet look on his face, patiently waiting for her and eager to hear what she has to say, not expecting a thing from her. _I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing._ His words settle in her chest again, and she’s reminded of why she loves him, why she can’t imagine anyone else to take this journey with her.

A smile forms on her face, which makes Mulder smile too, and all the fear and nervousness disappears.

“I’m pregnant, Mulder.”

“What?” he breathes, the teasing nature and his smile quickly fading away to make room for the shock. “You’re- really?”

She nods. “Really, really.”

His smile returns with a vengeance, this time impossibly wide. He closes the space between them and kisses her until they’re both out of breath. He pulls away to rest his forehead against hers and looks into her eyes. The intensity makes her warm all over. “I told you not to give up on a miracle,” he teases.

“Shut up and kiss me, Mulder.”

He kisses her more gently this time, savoring her, savoring this moment.

“I love you, Scully. So much.”

* * *

Scully stares at the rectangular, black and white sonogram of their child in her hands. She studies the curves of their baby’s nose, trying to decipher if it will take after Mulder. She tries to memorize every curve, every line, every dot, every shade of gray to see their child’s face. They don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but she has a feeling it’s a boy.

Even with the proof of life, right here on a 4 by 6 picture, even with every little butterfly flap, kick, hiccup, somersault, she still wonders if she’ll ever meet this little baby.

She likens him to an oasis in a desert, the light in the middle of darkness, or a dandelion growing between cracks in the sidewalk. The impossible dream. He wasn’t supposed to be a reality or even a possibility of reality, but here he is, living in her, building a home out of her, and yet he’s still so far away.

She looks up at the technician. “I can keep this?”

The technician chuckles, amused at Scully’s silly question. “Of course. It’s yours to take home. Congratulations, Dana.”

Scully nods. She feels like a little kid again, stunned in disbelief that this little thing she’s always wanted was granted to be in her possession.

“Can I see?” Mulder whispers beside her. He takes the photograph from her, barely holding onto its edges, not wanting to smudge the very first photograph of their child with his fingerprints. He carefully studies the picture until his lips part and a smile lights up his face. A laugh escapes him. “I can’t believe it.”

Neither can she.

* * *

She traces the edge of the white crib with her fingers and takes in the nursery she and Mulder have been putting together for the past few months. The wall opposite the crib is painted a dark navy purple like the night sky, speckled with bright yellow-white stars and orange planets and dotted constellations. The other three walls are pale in color with a tall giraffe next to the door she thinks they may use as a way to track their son’s height as he grows. There are fronds and flowers and trees and a little baby hippo and elephant too.

Scully opens the drawers and runs a hand over the soft, unworn cotton cloth of footed onesies, zip-up ones that resemble teddy bears, aliens, and lions, and solid-colored ones with snaps that say “out of this world.” She can’t wait for the day she gets to lay eyes on Mulder cradling their child wearing an alien-themed onesie and staring at his son with childlike wonder. The thought alone makes her heart burst and her tears threaten to escape.

She sits at the plush chair next to the crib and takes in a shaky breath, anxious, nervous, excited, incredulous, scared, and deliriously happy all at the same time. This wasn’t supposed to be her life and yet it is. Never give up on a miracle indeed. Tears break free and stream down her face like rain against car windows and she chokes out a small laugh. Leave it to Mulder to be right again because if anyone were to believe, it would be him.

Mulder pokes his head through the door, eyes brightening at the sight of her. “Hey, there you are.”

Scully wipes away the tears in her eyes against the sleeve of her sweater. When she lays eyes on him, the full weight of how grateful she is for his unwavering support hits her like a tidal wave, the emotion prickling its way from her cheeks to her now clammy hands and somewhere deep within her body. She blinks away the fresh tears that are blurring her vision of him.

“Hey,” he repeats even softer still, coming closer to crouch in front of her, “why are you crying? Are you okay?” He raises his hand to rest gently on her stomach, over their son, and she can feel him swimming like he already knows.

“I’m great. We’re doing great.”

Mulder beams so freely that she’s still not used to it. She has so rarely seen him like this before, but it’s now a near-daily occurrence. He presses his lips to her stomach, and she runs a hand through his hair, her smile matching the intensity in his.

* * *

She lies back onto the bed with exhaustion. She can barely feel the bottom half of her body, droplets of sweat are clinging onto the skin near her hairline, she’s pretty sure she needs to get episiotomy stitches, and she definitely bruised Mulder’s hand at some point during the blur that was the past 18 hours of labor.

But none of that matters because he’s here.

“He’s here, Scully. He’s finally here,” Mulder murmurs at her ear as the nurses wipe down their son and place him on her chest.

“Oh, my god,” she whimpers at the sight of his little scrunched up face, wisps of brown hair, pouty lips, and tiny fingers. She loves him so much, more than anyone she’s ever loved before, more than her own life. She loves Mulder, but the love and bond she has with her son are inexplicable. How could she have ever entertained the thought of giving up on her dream to have a child, even in the worst of times, when this was the end result?

“He’s beautiful.” Mulder arranges and rearranges the baby blanket, making sure this tiny human they’ve created is warm and taken care of. He gently tames the baby’s hair with a delicate finger and then moves to stroke his cheek. “He’s perfect.”

He breaks his gaze from their son to look at her, and if she weren’t so exhausted, fresh tears would be free-falling down her face at how much she loves him. Mulder kisses her forehead, her temple, her tear and sweat-stained cheeks, her lips, and then the top of their son’s head.

“I love you,” he tells their son quietly, a secret for him and him only. He looks at her again, full of awe. “I love you.”

She nods, knowing full well how much he does. She has never doubted it for one second, and she hopes he knows. Maybe she’ll say it out loud later when she recovers from pushing out a seven-pound baby, but this is enough for now. They’ll have time for that later.

* * *

Mulder is lying in her bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, with William belly-down on his chest. Mulder’s arms are crossed over his stomach, fingers just grazing William’s little feet in his gray onesie, forming a barrier around their son as they both quietly sleep. The sight reminds her of a day years ago when he came fumbling into her apartment, covered in his father’s blood, and she had to strip him away of his clothing to bring down his fever. She sat beside him on this very bed the next morning with a glass of water and that was one of the first times she experienced Mulder in all of his morning glory.

Now, he’s the spitting image of that morning, but in much better conditions and circumstances. How far they’ve come.

Scully sets some tea at the bedside table and sits at the edge of the bed, and he jolts awake, instinctively wrapping his arms around William. He realizes it’s only her, and he visibly relaxes, staring down at his chest to make sure he didn’t wake the sleeping baby.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it wasn’t you. I’m just, you know,” he shrugs timidly, stroking William’s back. She nods, understanding. The need to protect their baby from everything and anything is strong. He motions to the space beside him with a quick nod of his head. “Get over here, Scully.”

She smiles knowingly and rounds the bed to lay beside him, draping a leg and an arm over his own. She rests her head against his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head and turns to rest his cheek there. Mesmerized by William’s chubby cheeks, his little huffs of breath, and full bottom lip, Scully sighs contently, finally at peace.


End file.
